You and Me
by YourswithLove
Summary: "I can't tell you how glad I am that you actually said those words and didn't abbreviate," he smiled, "Way too many girls wreck embarrassing moments with just the first initials of that catchphrase." Rachel is excited to begin university until she humiliates herself in front of the perfect guy, who also happens to be her roommate, Santana's boyfriend. But it's complicated.
1. Chapter 1

Rachel sighed as she pulled another load of toasty laundry from the beeping dryer. Doing fluff and fold duty for Santana was a small price to pay for remaining in the Spanish girl's favor. After being a front row witness to the teary effects of her cutting remarks on another freshman sorority house member, Rachel was almost grateful that she had been forcibly drafted onto Santana's side in the cold war she seemed to be having with almost everyone else –especially Quinn Fabray, their house leader.

Rachel had never intended to seek refuge in a sorority but after two weeks rooming with a girl who seemed eager to aspire to a major in 24 hour drunkenness, with a minor in throwing up in places that were always on Rachel's side of the room (and in one specifically disgusting incidence, her bed), she bit the bullet and gave in to her Mom's insistence to live in her old alma mater.

As Rachel carefully folded and stacked her own clothes appreciating the availability and solitude of the private laundry she remembered back to her graduation dinner where her parents had argued their respective points of view about what was best for her over filet mignon.

"Rachel has never shared a bathroom with anyone," her Mom, Shelby pointed out to her Dads', "How on Earth do you expect her to be comfortable with co-ed curtained dormitory showers?"

"Rachel is adaptable," her Dad was always full of faith about her capability to excel in any situation, "She has a rape whistle, she will be perfectly fine."

"Well, it's just one possibility," Shelby had turned to Rachel, understandingly explaining, "My house only had two girls per bathroom, a proper kitchen and you wouldn't have to traipse across campus to access a laundry room."

Shelby was adamant that Rachel have options and even though she had no plan to enter the Greek system Rachel appreciated her Mom's efforts to help her given that they had only recently reconnected. Two weeks after moving into the dorms, her naïve disbelief had been shattered. A tearful phone call listing the items of clothes, books and linen that had been destroyed by Vomitty Val, as Rachel had dubbed her, had Shelby pulling strings to ensure Rachel's bid to enter Kappa Omega Psi would be a piece of cake.

With a tone, filled with brimming enthusiasm Shelby had assured Rachel, "This way you'll be sure to meet some lifelong friends and have a wonderful college experience."

All Rachel cared about was protecting her possessions from puke, and she'd never expected to be dragged into a familial feud. However, that's exactly what happened.

Three days ago rush had finished and all of the successful applicants had been lined up for appraisal, which was run as a veritable cattle call, with their skills to be brutally assessed by Quinn. Rachel had slipped in at the end of the line unobtrusively, hoping that she could get through this ordeal without being tossed back to her horror dorm. She was eager for sleep that wasn't interrupted by dry heaving.

While the junior, sophomore and senior members of the sorority stood behind Quinn, smirking, Rachel noticed a girl disinterestedly reclined on the sofa behind them, flicking through a magazine.

"So, ladies," Quinn began pacing the length of the line clasping a clipboard, "You've all been lucky enough to be invited to live with us but as you may have been told, we accepted more girls this year to provide a wider range in the variety of the type of members we have."

The lounging girl scoffed loudly as Quinn imparted this information, drawing everyone's attention, except for Rachel's because she had already been studying her. The girl's brave defiance was curious, plus with her shiny black hair and dangerous curves she was easily the most beautiful girl in the room. Wondering what her deal was had piqued Rachel's interest.

"As I was saying," commanded Quinn, capturing their waylaid attention, "This meant we've had to draw out names for which senior members will be opening their rooms to shared living this year."

'Rigged," the girl fake coughed into her hand, smiling sweetly at Quinn, when she turned to shoot daggers in her direction.

"If you have a problem with our system, Santana, I suggest you take it up with our board," Quinn returned the girl's smile with a winning sneer, identifying her by name, "Anyway, I want you to tell us a little something about yourselves and what you can contribute to our house so that you can be accurately matched with an appropriate roommate."

Rachel had made quick judgments about the other new girls, as was natural according to her first couple of psychology lectures, but she'd been at a loss to work out some kind of commonality that would explain their mutual desire to live in a sorority house. As their speeches started though and despite different body shapes, hair colors, majors and interests every single one of them proudly stated that they had been a successful cheerleader at their respective high school and hoped to continue their high kicking career at college. Except for Rachel.

She listened in panicked desperation as the girls rattled off experiences in gymnastics, fundraising, hair styling and positive thinking as excellent attributes for a potential roommate. Being a drama major with dreams of starring roles on Broadway meant Rachel could dance; however it wasn't her strength. She knew nothing about the creation or choreography of cheerleading routines. Or anything else useful, it seemed.

"And you, Rachel," Quinn said, running her manicured fingernail down the list of applicants, consulting her clipboard as if she couldn't even be bothered to learn Rachel's name, although she'd been the one to show her around. "What can you do?"

"I don't know," Rachel blurted out. "I'm not a cheerleader although I have experience in tap, ballet and jazz. I can sing."

Quinn raised her eyebrow, condescendingly. "We can all sing."

"Yes, but I can sing well."

Rachel realized when she glanced at Quinn's furious face that it was the wrong way to phrase the truth.

"What I mean," she amended quickly, "is that I sing professionally."

"That's hardly a good housemate quality though. Anything else?" Quinn shrugged.

"I bake," said Rachel frantically, her fear of ending up homeless on the streets of New York becoming more real. "Cookies, cakes, muffins. Anything sweet."

"Do we look like we eat refined sugar here?" Quinn's biting commentary almost had Rachel collapsing due to lack of oxygen, as the reasons for the lack of carbohydrates on the refreshments tables at the various rush events became clearer.

"What's your major, Rachel?" asked Quinn cruelly, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"An actress. I want to star on Broadway." Rachel's talent had always been evident and she was confident in her ability to achieve. She was only attempting college to please her Daddies, so sure was she that Broadway was her destiny.

"Is that right?" Quinn murmured thoughtfully, and then emphatically gestured to a perky blonde down the line, "Rosie, here, wants to be a pediatric nurse to save sick children's lives, but you want to be an actor. What possible skills could you ever offer us?"

Even though most people she knew would describe her ambitious behavior as selfishness, deliberate meanness was not something Rachel had ever mastered, so she was quite shocked at her own candor as she spat out, "I 'spose I'll be able to be a convincing liar when people ask how much of a fucking bitch you really are."

Her words were met with stunned silence from the residents, new and old. Until Santana, who had been doubled over from laughing so hard, propelled herself off the lounge and grabbed Rachel's hand.

"I'm taking this one," she announced to the shocked room, dragging Rachel and her bags up the stairs behind her.

"You want Rachel?" echoed Quinn in disbelief.

"Yep," Santana still immersed in the hilarity of the situation, laughingly replied. "If you demand that I share a room with a freshman, sure as hell I'm picking someone who seems to hate you as much as I do."

Even though Rachel didn't really hate Quinn, she was happy to be considered one of Santana's supporters.

And living with her had so far been pleasantly vomit free. Their room was quite basic but much bigger than the one she had shared with Vomitty Val. There was a window seat overlooking a garden that caught a lot of sun and their bathroom overloaded with products had a sink big enough to share. Santana hadn't been terribly forthcoming about personal details, and she didn't have too many pictures adorning her walls but she did lay down some ground rules and immediately gave Rachel an impression of what living with her would be like.

"Okay, Shorty," Santana had said, as she slammed the door to their room and unceremoniously dumped Rachel's bags on her bare bed, "Three things to remember. First, I'm a second year, double majoring in law and business administration. I'm also head cheerleader. I'm always busy. If I don't come home at night don't panic, I will text you though because I wasn't raised in the jungle. Second, don't let anyone be mean to you. Feel free to manipulate all those idiots down there using my name. They'll be begging for a squad position and soon we'll be bribed with all kinds of stuff. You're welcome to whatever they leave outside the door, but check with me first; it may be poisoned. And lastly, under no circumstance are you never again allowed to wear any piece of clothing that has an animal on it, especially a cat. Unless it's done ironically or it happens to be Halloween."

"Is this sweater ironic," Rachel asked, confused, looking at her favorite black and white sweater with a repeated cat border around the waistband.

'God, no," Santana shook her head, "But we will work on that."

And so, while Santana plugged her earphones into her computer and started taking notes from some complex math textbook, Rachel had unpacked her things, tossing half of her clothes into her suitcase due to the over abundance of animal motifs. Because, frankly, she knew Santana had some idea what she was talking about. However, because of the prohibited items stuffed into storage she was left with a limited supply of clothes and realized she needed to regularly wash what she had left. At least until she could ask what she should buy to replace her cat and owl sweaters with.

This was how she found herself in the laundry room the next afternoon, her second in the house. As she'd watched nearly everyone else scuttle out the door for cheerleading tryouts she turned to Santana and offered, "I'm going to wash all my clothes today. Do you want me to do yours?"

Santana's enthusiastic affirmative answer had Rachel feeling useful and positive about their future friendship. Until, in shock she watched as Santana sneakily retrieved a huge pile of clothes from underneath her neatly made bed and fill her empty hamper with them.

"Some of these belong to my friend, Brittany. But don't worry about trying to sort that out," Santana had waved goodbye, cheerily and then pushed her way down the stairs knocking several girls over with her aggressive entitled swagger.

In the eerie quiet of the deserted house Rachel was still stuck in the laundry room, thinking about the last few whirlwind days while contemplating her stack of clean underwear and comparing them to Santana's. Simple facts were that when your two main caregivers were men and overprotective men at that, possessing attractive or expensive underwear had never been an option. Santana's collection could be described using three words, lacy, sheer and skimpy. Which Rachel thought was completely cool since all of her own panties were white cotton adorned with stars, or, and she wasn't sure whether they should be banished because of Santana's edict, kittens.

The most intriguing garment, Rachel thought, was a sheer red brief with ties at the side presumably to hold it all together. What was completely stumping her though, was how to fold them correctly. They seemed expensive so she couldn't just roll them into a ball and laid flat left the strings caught up. What she needed was the dressmakers' mannequin she'd seen last night in Marley's room, a fashion major who had kidnapped Rachel after developing an urgent need to speak to her about whether Santana preferred red or blue.

Rachel had never realized how fun it was to mess with people before, but as she sat crossed legged on Marley's bed and waxed lyrical about all the imaginary things Santana enjoyed while attracting quite the freshman crowd of cheerleader hopefuls, she convinced herself that her home was now one big acting exercise. Quite honestly, if those girls didn't have the good sense to grasp that Rachel couldn't really get to know someone in the four hours she'd been living with her then that was on them.

Huffing, annoyed because she didn't have access to Marley's mannequin or any better ideas, Rachel slid the underwear on over her yoga pants and tied perfect bows on each hip pushing all thoughts about how absolutely strange her actions were to the back of mind. Since she was already mired in deeply weird territory, Rachel stood on her tiptoes and swiveled her head around to examine how her butt looked encased in the fabric.

"Woah!" a guy's voice reverberated through the laundry room, "Girls sure do find some weird ways of entertaining themselves when left alone."

Rachel's head snapped up to see an unfamiliar guy wearing mechanic overalls sauntering down the stairs, grinning at her ridiculousness.

"Oh my God."

She wasn't sure she'd ever been in a humiliating position like this before despite recently experiencing Quinn's interrogation or being the subject of numerous slushie facials back in high school. And she wasn't sure she knew what to say, especially when there was literally no explaining her behavior without sounding slightly mad.

Even worse, Rachel noticed, now that he was close up that there was a permanent smirk on the guy's perfectly shaped mouth. Why did he have to have a perfectly shaped mouth, she wondered?

"I can't tell you how glad I am that you actually said those words and didn't abbreviate," he smiled, "Way too many girls wreck perfectly good embarrassing moments with just the first initials of that catchphrase."

Rachel hadn't moved or attempted to rectify the situation by removing Santana's panties because she was sure her mortification had welded her to the floor.

Remembering that the best defense was the best offence she heard her hollow voice say, "I didn't think guys were allowed in our house?"

"Well," he continued smiling brightly, as he opened the toolbox he had carried with him down the stairs and rummaged through it coming up with some kind of wrench, "I'm not just any guy. I'm Finn the fixer."

Rachel was desperate not to mention that she'd noticed that he wasn't just any guy, and that she thought he might be the ideal guy. He was way taller than her, which wasn't unusual since she was barely 5 foot, but she'd scanned his face and now believed that it was quite unfair to have gifted this guy with the perfectly shaped mouth an equally faultless nose and impeccable deep chocolate brown eyes.

Noticing that she seemed to be struck mute he carried on the one sided conversation whilst continuing to prepare different tools and organize them on the bench where her clothes sat.

"So, are you getting ready for a date? Because I'd have to say, as original as that look is, most guys prefer being the superman in a relationship."

"Oh, well if I was going out on a date I would wear them the traditional way."

Rachel was unsure why she kept speaking. It was almost as if since she was sure her feet would need to be pried off the floor to remove herself from the situation she'd see if it was possible to embarrass herself enough to physically implode.

"Then I'd say that is one lucky dude. But remember," he shook his finger at her, lecturing her in a brotherly manner, "Although he may get to unwrap you like a gift, you don't have to give him anything."

Running over what he said in her head, Rachel realized he'd now caught her wearing someone else's panties over her clothes and casually referenced her virginity.

"They're not mine," she squeaked out, "They belong to my roommate."

He frowned, but his eyes shone with amusement. "You realize that sounds even weirder now, right?"

She nodded furiously. "Yes, but its true. I washed mountains of clothes for her and I was working out how to fold them so they would get damaged or ruined."

Without being sure what motivated her Rachel thrust a handful of her own clean underwear at him. "These are mine."

She knew she'd resulted in making herself look even more childish when she heard the laughter in his rich voice.

"Stars and kitty cats. Cute."

Rachel knew she should have high tailed it back to her room when she first saw him. Her lack of experience with any male that wasn't one of her Dad's usually ended in some kind of debacle and this encounter was following that pattern exactly. She wasn't sure if his masculine idealness was making this spectacularly bad or whether all of her inter gender college interactions were going to end up with her humiliating herself.

Watching as Finn turned off the taps that connected the out of order washing machine to the water, she pulled at the bows to remove Santana's panties so she could make her hasty escape while his back was turned. She attempted to untie the knot on her right hip but felt her stomach drop when it wouldn't budge. Her fumbling fingers were sweaty and couldn't get a grip on the fabric to insert her fingernail to separate the material. She glanced around and wondered if Finn had something pointy she could use to push into the tiny gap inside the knot, to tease out space and give her enough surface area to pull it apart.

With the realization that her frantic tugging of the knot had only cinched it tighter she swore under her breath, glancing up to see Finn observing the futility of her task.

"Need some help?" he smiled sympathetically, and walked over to kneel beside her at her imperceptible nod.

She couldn't watch as his long fingers manipulated the knot at her side. Rachel thought that if she had a visual of the operation she might faint. As it was, she could feel the heat radiating off his form and smell his unique musky scent. His hands were in such close proximity to her thighs, and with the thinness of her yoga pants she dreamed she could feel every breath he exhaled out whisper across her skin. His fingers were so busy, the palm and sides of his hands bumped into her body accidentally, making her legs shake.

His concentration on the job sent her pulse racing; their silence creating some kind of natural intimacy, except she thought, he teased her like a child before and any bond between them was being over inflated by her imagination.

"Hey, could you?" he demonstrated what he needed by grabbing her oversized shirt in his hand and waving it around, indicating that it was in the way of what he was trying to do.

Rachel helped him by drawing the surplus material in her fist, gripping so hard her knuckles turned white. Holding on to the material had exposed a sliver of skin, where her yoga pants sat low on her hips. She saw Finn sneak a peek then immediately turn away, his brow furrowing in frustration but told herself that it was purely a mechanical irritation no matter how much she wished he'd have a visceral reaction to her body. Mutual attraction would be impossible, especially because she wanted it so much.

"Man, were you a sailor in a previous life or something?" he joked, breaking the tension purposely, diffusing the situation and causing her to giggle.

Finn finally untied the knot, drawing the two strings apart and allowing the panties to drop in a pool around her feet.

"You did it!" Rachel said breathlessly, accidently channeling Scarlett O'Hara. "I cant thank you enough."

"You're more than welcome," he replied, overly polite. And then surprised her by leaning forward and pressing his lips against the bared flesh of her hip.

Rachel remained stationary in shock, an unfamiliar heat flashing throughout her body assisted by the blood rushing through her veins, but Finn scooted backwards, touching his fingers to his mouth.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, "I'm fucking sorry. I don't even know why I did that."

Rachel wasn't sure either but she would have been in complete agreement if he proposed to do it again.

"Its fine. It was nice," admitted Rachel softly.

"Yeah, well, it shouldn't have happened."

Scowling, Finn turned his back to Rachel, grabbed a screwdriver and started loosening something attached to the washing machine.

Rachel, unsure what had just happened bundled up Santana's panties off the floor, dumped them into her clean washing basket and made a break for it to her room. Hopefully, everything in their house was well maintained and visits from Finn the fixer would be few and far between – and seeing him would be completely avoidable.

* * *

I know I haven't been around but uni is almost finished and so I can write again.

Of course I started something new before finishing anything else. I have problems!


	2. Chapter 2

The sun had disappeared sometime between when Rachel had lied down with her psych text and accidently fallen asleep and now. It was early evening, or so she assumed from the dim light filtering through the window and the cooler breeze blowing in that had roused her.

"You shouldn't sleep in the day time," lectured a blonde girl sitting cross-legged on Santana's bed, languidly stroking the hugest cat Rachel has ever seen, "It throws out your circadian rhythms."

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," Rachel murmured groggily, sitting up slowly and swinging her legs over the side of her bed. As soon as her position created a lap the giant cat traversed the distance between Santana and Rachel's beds and demurely dropped itself down on her, purring loudly.

"Oh, good," the blonde girl said, sitting herself down beside Rachel. "Lord Tubbington is an excellent judge of character and he seems to like you. Let's seal the deal right now." She thrust a piece of gooey cheese into Rachel's flattened palm and held on to her wrist while the cat licked it off.

"He only eats things that start with 'C'," the girl informed Rachel, "But he eats all types of cheese, not just Camembert or cheddar. And he also like chocolate milk, without any chocolate."

"So, milk then?" asked Rachel, discreetly wiping her sticky hand on her yoga pants.

"Yep, you're really clever," smiled the girl.

Rachel continued to pat Lord Tubbington, with her dry hand, mostly because he really was hefty and she wasn't sure she could lift him off of her. The girl continued patting him too, which was fine because he had a large surface area and there was plenty of room for many admirers.

Quite sure that you weren't actually supposed to bring your pet to college, Rachel avoided asking about the feline because it hadn't worked out so well when she'd mentioned that she didn't think guys were allowed in their house to Finn in the laundry. Her nap had done little to diminish the mortification she was feeling about the incident but patting the cat was actually calming and in all likelihood since she probably wouldn't see Finn again and wasn't keen on telling anybody what had happened it could be vaulted away in her mind.

The bathroom door opened and Santana came out brushing her hair, changed from the cheerleading uniform she was wearing when she'd left that morning.

"Oh good, you're awake," she said, "It's your turn to get dressed because we're all going out to dinner."

"I woke her with my mind. She was asleep and I stared at her really hard, thinking 'Wake up, Rachel, wake up!' and she did. So, I'm either magic or psychic, which are both pretty good options, don't you think?" the blonde girl asked.

Rachel nodded agreeing, not really caring about the girls obviously strange ways since she'd always believed different was good.

"This is my best friend, Brittany," Santana introduced her. "She is…, " Santana paused as if trying to find the right adjective to describe her but Rachel had seen the clear adoration in her eyes.

"Amazing and wonderful?" supplied Rachel, and she knew she'd done the right thing when Santana's eyes lit up and she nodded wordlessly.

Shuffling the cat onto Brittany's lap, Rachel rubbed her numb thighs, searching through her meager provision of clothes, deciding on something similar to what the other girls wore.

As she changed in the bathroom she heard a muted conversation taking place between Brittany and Santana, interrupted by frequent giggling. That was one of the problems with sharing such a small space, thought Rachel wryly, no privacy. In her last dorm, she'd witnessed her roommates behavior with disdain, but what was worse was how she'd also heard her arguing on the phone with her parents after Rachel had stolen her phone while she was passed out and rang them with her concerns.

A knock at their dorm door followed by loud screeching ensued and she figured that more people would be joining them for dinner.

"Hudson!" she heard Santana exclaim, followed by muffled sentences. Although Rachel couldn't understand what they were saying, she definitely thought that Hudson had to be a guy since his voice was deep and resonant.

She pulled her new shirt over her head, opened the bathroom door and walked straight into someone who obviously hadn't known she was there. Bouncing off his hard chest, Rachel landed on her bottom on the hard tiled floor. She could have lived with that except her short skirt had flipped up revealing her panties to the familiar but hard as a rock statue who remained unmoving, blocking the doorway.

"Geez, Finn," Santana complained. "You could at least help her up," she chastised, as she shoved Finn's bulky form out of the way. Santana scowled at him as she followed his line of sight to Rachel's still on display panties, elbowing him hard in the ribs. Rachel felt the blood rush to her cheeks as Finn wrenched his eyes away from her embarrassing spread-eagle position, a similar scarlet color heating up his face, while he rubbed his side from Santana's assault.

"Rachel," Santana whined, as she help Rachel to her feet, "I thought I told you not to wear anything with a cat on them." She stopped and thought for a second, before pushing Rachel's skirt back down and adding, "Except, I guess a kitten on your panties is kind of ironic since anyone viewing them would probably be well on their way to having a taste of your pussy."

"Santana!" Brittany coddled Rachel to her and covered her ear with both hands, "Rachel isn't used to you yet. And she doesn't even know Finn. Don't talk about her p-u-s-s-y in front of him." She spelled it out slowly, not even noticing that Finn or Rachel were silent during the whole exchange.

Rachel could feel Finn's fixed gaze on her and wondered which reaction she'd receive. The playful teasing Finn fix it, who'd kissed her hip or, grumpy Finn, who had withdrawn. Instead, he remained silent and slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.

Sighing, Santana said, "That ass was Finn Hudson." She threw herself down on her bed and grabbed Brittany's hand, examining her manicure.

Rachel started to say that she knew that but hushed up because it probably wasn't wise to open herself up to more ridicule.

"Finn's our teams' Quarterback," Santana added.

"And he fixes stuff around here," continued Brittany.

"Usually he is a really great guy," Santana went on.

"Which is why he is also Santana's boyfriend," Brittany finished.

For the first time since starting college, Rachel felt like crying, "Oh."

Brittany scooped Lord Tubbington to deposit him back to her own room and said she'd meet them downstairs, hugging Santana tightly before she left. Then Santana offered to braid Rachel's hair while they were waiting for Finn to finish his shower.

"He was fixing the broken washing machine downstairs," Santana commented, her hands weaving through Rachel's hair expertly, "Its weird you didn't run into him. Anyway, now he smells like gross oily boy sweat, so he has to get clean since I owe him dinner for fixing it for free. It's a deal he has with me."

Rachel found that she couldn't answer because firstly, she was trying to avoid telling Santana that she loved the boy sweat smell. On Finn, it was sweet and strong, reminding her of enclosed spaces and hard work. She also had to concentrate on not picturing him in the shower, his skin slippery from soap and glistening from the water hitting him. If he was her boyfriend the thought of ditching her friends for some alone time with him seemed conceivable.

"How long have you two been together?" Rachel queried, hoping that the answer would douse any feelings Finn stirred in her because for once Santana actually seemed to like her and she thought maintaining a friendship could be possible. Admittedly, in high school it hadn't been a high priority and Rachel had been like a bulldozer, demolishing everything around her, including peoples' feelings and self esteem. But now everything was different and Rachel had learned first hand, with her first roommate situation that it didn't matter how much you complained, or who you complained to, you couldn't always get what you wanted. And she decided to take that lesson and apply it to her whole life.

"Ages," Santana said dismissively.

Rachel didn't want to think it but it was clichéd. The head cheerleader and the quarterback. She knew very little about sports but the combination of footballer and cheerleader was the subject of many movies. Santana's indifference was strange, though. Rachel thought she might be mad since Finn had been obvious in his apparent interest in Rachel's underwear.

Finn emerged from the bathroom, smelling even better than before if that was possible.

"Finn, this is Rachel." Introductions were perfunctory since their previous attempts had gone awry. "She is my new roommate. I texted you about her, remember?"

"Yeah," he answered not meeting either of their eyes, "Nice to meet you."

Rachel nodded, without speaking.

She watched him move over to Santana's side of the room, his pinched expression not lessening the attractiveness of his features. He sat on Santana's bed but jumped straight back up again.

"What are you doing?" he suddenly asked, agitated, watching Santana's skillful hands knit themselves in and out of Rachel's hair.

"Rachel's coming too, so I'm doing her hair."

"Does she have to come?" he asked meanly and turned away from them, grabbing his wallet and keys that he'd rested on Rachel's bureau.

"Fuck, Finn! Have you swallowed some of Puck's douchebag pills or what? You are being a complete asshole." Santana wrapped her arms around Rachel and rested her head on Rachel's shoulder, glaring at Finn. "Rachel doesn't snore, isn't loud, doesn't give a shit that I'm head cheerleader and did all of my washing today so whatever your particular problem is with her had better disappear."

Finn looked suitably reprimanded but Rachel just felt guilty. She was unsure if Finn was mad with her because he assumed she would tell Santana about what happened in the laundry or if he was embarrassed because he got caught out for perving by his girlfriend or if he just wanted to spend time with just Santana. After all, they were dating which Rachel didn't know from experience, but imagined time alone was a prerequisite and perk to that kind of relationship.

As Santana begun discussing possible cheerleading recruits with Finn, Rachel followed them down the stairs trying to come to grips with the impossible situation. Santana rudely ignored all of the girls who called out greetings to her and Finn as they strode through the house, until they were outside. Then she sprinted towards Brittany, who was leaning against a tree and grabbed her by the waist and swung her around.

The others made idle chitchat, as Rachel kept quiet listening and trying to understand them better through their interactions. Half way to the cafeteria Brittany and Santana frolicked off, kicking autumn leaves at each other. Finn stepped up the pace and Rachel had to double march to keep up.

"Hey," she put her hand on his arm to halt his progress, "I'm not going to tell Santana."

He slowed somewhat and glanced down at his arm where she held onto him.

"What would you tell her?" he smirked, but it was devoid of all humor, "Nothing happened."

She shrugged, confused about his nonchalance. "Nothing happened in the laundry?"

Finn narrowed his eyes at Rachel and pried her hand from his arm. "Rachel," he spat at her, "You want to know why that happened? Easy. My Mom remarried a few years back and her and my step dad got pregnant. I have this adorable little sister, Kate, who I really miss. Your little predicament reminded me of when she tries to do something she can't actually do. She gets all whiny and spoilt and bratty."

"You think I'm whiny?" Rachel repeated.

"You don't?" he asked, quirking up an eyebrow, the emphasis telling her that it was obvious to everyone.

Rachel stepped back from Finn, putting distance between them and turned towards Brittany and Santana, who were now throwing the leaves at each other. She refused to be upset, while trying to dissect his analogy. Finn knew nothing about her, except for what he'd seen in the laundry and heard from Santana, but he'd managed to nail her personality. At least, what she was like before she got to college anyway. If his comparisons to his sister were an attempt to distance himself from her why would he do that, she wondered.

She continued to watch the other two girls enjoy the crunch of the leaves, smiling at their joyful behavior. They reminded her of the fairies in A Midsummers Night Dream, getting up to mischief.

Rachel felt Finn's hand on her shoulder, and then his fingertips blazed a trail down her upper arm and grazed the skin of her inner elbow. She sprung away from him but refused to turn around or look at his face or answer. Even though, she thought, that it kind of did make her behavior spoilt and maybe, bratty.

"Look," he grunted, "I just think it would be better for us to stay away from each other."

"Can you give me any particular reason why?" she glanced up at him, her brow scrunched.

"Not one that you'd get. But I think this will make both of our lives easier in the long run," his expression had softened, but Rachel remained distant.

"I have no idea why you think that, but I completely agree," she said coldly, and jogged to catch up to Santana and Brittany, who had skipped ahead to the dining hall.

They lingered over their dinner chatting about their classes, assignments and professors. Rachel spent most of the time studiously avoiding Finn's gaze. Still, she could sense him scrutinizing her expression yet determinedly focus his attention elsewhere when she turned her head in his direction. Their knees bumped underneath the table and his body visibly stiffened. She had to push her chair back to ensure any contact was avoided. The whole situation was beyond strange.

Santana and Brittany explained some house expectations and clarified the no boy rule while Finn stayed mute, devouring everything in sight.

"Technically, its only a guideline. So that things don't get uncomfortable between roommates." Santana said, "But you don't have to worry about that," she teased, "You hourly schedule tells me where you are down to the second. And you sleep like the dead. Best roommate attribute ever." Santana beamed happily.

Rachel found out that their sorority intersected itself with Finn's and they participated in charity work together, as well as assisting the football team. As the upcoming season was approaching house members would be assigned a football player and act as a personal assistant for them.

"What do we have to do?" Rachel was concerned about the specifics.

"We help them," Brittany said, "Decorate their dorm doors before games. Help them with their scheduling, give them advice. Be their date if they can't get one, you know, helping things."

"That sounds like an archaic tradition," Rachel disapproved, "Like, prostitution."

Finn took a break from shoveling food in. "It's not," he frowned, " It's a way to establish new friendships. To help guys balance college and elite sports."

"Sure," Rachel shrugged, conveying her disbelief in a simple movement of her shoulders. She wasn't sure whether she was deliberately trying to incite a reaction from Finn, but the dirty look he tossed her way took some of the sting out of being identified as whiny.

Ignoring all tension between Finn and Rachel, Santana dragged Brittany off to the bathroom.

"You stay here," she pointed at Rachel, then glowered at Finn, "Be nice to Rachel. You have no choice, so you may as well learn to love her."

"That's the problem," Finn muttered under his breath, which caused Rachel to hold hers for an exorbitant period of time. The spell was broken when Quinn and her friends took advantage of Santana's absence to slither in beside Finn, ignoring Rachel.

"I have a feeling we are going to be spending a lot more time together," Quinn purred, "Call me psychic but I'm pretty sure your going to pull my name out to be your PA this season."

"Didn't you have enough of me last year," Finn asked dully, ignoring the undertones of her statement.

"I could never get enough of you, Finn, I thought I made that pretty clear," simpered Quinn. Her overt flirting made Rachel uncomfortable, as well as establishing a feeling like she was missing elements of the conversation that were important. It was like acting a scene with no character motivation, or understanding of the role.

"I thought the draw was random," Rachel interrupted. The girls that had shadowed Quinn recoiled as if Rachel had slapped her, not just asked a simple question.

"Oh, it is," Quinn remained focused on Finn, "I just have the best luck, that's all." She sneered and her friends all tittered at Rachel's ignorance. She'd noticed that most of the other girls had to tread a fine line between demonstrating allegiance towards Quinn, who Rachel had found out was deputy to Santana's head cheerleader as well as their sorority president, and Santana, who they all seemed to respect and fervently endeavored to receive approval from. She felt bad that they always seemed so shattered from their dual efforts.

"That doesn't seem fair," Rachel protested.

"It doesn't, does it?" Quinn cast her a scathing look and pushed her chair back. As she leaned down to noisily kiss Finn on the cheek, she whispered something in his ear that made him blush and grimace simultaneously, and then flounced away with her colleagues.

"She is very forward," Rachel commented, forgetting that they were supposed to be ignoring

each other.

"It was way worse before I started dating Santana," he pointed out, "And it's just a quarterback thing. A football thing. They don't really want me."

"I think you're selling yourself short," murmured Rachel. "And you're way too tall to do that," she smiled, sardonically at her stupid joke. Finn shot her a surprised look, dropping his gaze to her slightly open mouth and she bit her lip, nervously. Rachel felt the weird current between them flare to life, only to be broken when their attention was caught by Santana and Brittany, laughing hysterically, falling back into their seats.

One look at Finn's face and Santana stopped laughing and demanded, "What happened?"

"Nothing," Finn told her. So, Santana turned her interrogation to Rachel, who proved to be a weaker target.

"Quinn came over and basically said she was rigging the personal assistant draw so she got Finn. Again, I think," Rachel caved, trying to summarize effectively but without embellishment or confessing how she may have a huge crush on her boyfriend while synchronously hating him.

"Fold any quicker!" hissed Finn crankily.

"She's my friend!" Rachel remonstrated.

"Children, please!" Santana held her hands up, "Don't blow your tops. Marley is supposed to be helping Quinn with the draw and she'd easier to break than a freaking wafer. I'll re-rig the draw and match you up with someone else, like Rachel."

"Not Rachel!" asserted Finn, shocking everyone with his sudden outburst, "It's just that we will see plenty of each other. She should get to know lots of different people," he explained, and made it sound reasonable, sensible even. But Rachel knew. Not only did Finn not want her around him, he would avoid her at all costs. It was quite humiliating.

While they made plans to have drinks at some bar, while congratulating themselves on eating a decent meal beforehand ("We learned a lot from our first year in college," Santana had bragged while they all snorted), Rachel excused herself.

"I'm really tired. I need sleep," she explained.

"Didn't you listen to my circadian rhythms talk? I didn't make it up you know," Brittany seemed disappointed.

"Oh, yeah," Rachel renewed her excuse, "I have a test tomorrow I forgot about and I really need to study."

Brittany looked pleased; Santana looked suspicious, but worst of all, palpable relief was evident across Finn's face, although as she trudged across campus to their house she intuited him close by and wondered what the hell was wrong with her.

Rachel did go to bed early, ignoring Brittany's words of wisdom because she didn't think she'd slept for more than three consecutive hours since she'd arrived at college. Constantly worrying about being vomited on brought on latent insomnia and although Rachel felt lucky to escape that probability, chasing sleep was tricky.

At about 1am the locked door jiggled, as Santana sung outside loudly and apparently, drunkenly. Rachel heard Finn shushing her and speaking to her in low, soothing tones.

"You're going to wake Rachel," he whispered, "You need to be quiet." Rachel was unsure about his level of inebriation but she thought, obviously their pride in being grown ups and consuming dinner before drinks to avoid intoxication was somewhat misplaced.

"I told you," Santana argued vociferously, "She sleeps like the dead."

Laying as still as possible when they entered, the idea that they may decide to have sex, plagued her. There would be no way Rachel could pretend to sleep during that. She lacked voyeuristic tendencies, she discovered, especially when she couldn't isolate her specific feelings for Finn, only being aware that him being intimate with Santana in front of her would be horrifying.

Finn was considerate enough to leave the lights off, making do with the moonlight, while she listened to them move about the room. Rachel could only guess what they were doing as she squeezed her eyes tight and strained to identify their actions from sounds. All of Santana's attempts to be quiet were over exaggerated and she bubbled with laughter at the effort, while Finn huffed. Rachel heard drawers open and close.

"Go get into your pajamas," Finn directed, as the bathroom door opened and Rachel guessed that Santana shuffled inside to change. She heard the bathroom door click shut and the sound of, Finn, she supposed, lean onto it, sighing audibly. Listening carefully as he crept across the floor, she froze when she saw from behind her eyelids his shadowy shape hover over her.

He bent down and tenderly brushed a piece of hair that had been tickling her nose behind her ear. Rachel felt her blood rush through her veins but she wasn't frightened. His thumb caressed her cheek, and lightly dragged against her bottom lip, as she stifled all urges to move or, worse, moan.

"Santana's right," he spoke softly to himself, sharing his minty toothpaste breath with her, "You do sleep like the dead." His hand returned to her hair again, and he let the strands waterfall through his fingers, "But you sure do look pretty doing it."

The bathroom door opened again and a slither of light forced him to move away from her.

"Put me to bed, Finn, my friend," Santana cried, and the light was quickly extinguished. She involuntary eavesdropped, as Santana climbed into bed, and remained there, thankfully alone, Rachel exhaled in relief.

"Go to sleep, San," Finn muttered and left, leaving Rachel reeling. She had absolutely no idea what was going on but fatigue claimed her and she slept soundly until morning for the first time in weeks.


End file.
